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NOV. 

POEMS 



BY 



WILLIAM COFFIN DORNIN. Jr. 



NKW YORK 
1904 



!L!0»AKYof CO-NQRESs| 
Two Copias Received 

NOV 2 1904 

Copyright Entry 

cuss A XXc. No; 

/ 1 %S^ 

COPY B. 



Copyrighted 1904 



By 



W. C. DORNIN, Jr. 



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01 



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acJ^no^vle^o"^€nt ii? ma^c ot tbe courtcsx? cl 

tbc niaoa^mee in wbicb sonic ot tbcec 

vocme bavc am^'cavc^. 



Copyrighted 1904 

By 
W. C. DoRNiN, Jr. 



.iGctoic the ^^'toiiH. 

< i\(.T thr ^(.M ainl It );iiii rlad \sa\fS \\i- >4<i, 

Cart'l^.'^^^ <it wlial tlu- wiinl^' lUn-]) plots iiia\- lu- 
ll ()iil\ our >\\ill tOolrd >liip llu\- hlou 
( )\ «.T iIk- si-a. 

'Idle >ky is ilark lo \\ imlw anl, ainl ilu- In- 

Is while with hij^h .iiid <lriftiiiii h.mks of siiow 
Tht' >iii'>kr ot" i-()iiiin<' StoriiTs ariilKi\ . 



]'a>l ilnwn tlu- wind lu- hurrirs, and Ik-Iow 

Mis k-el IIk- \\a\t's' aiin> loss mucasiii<4l\ . 
Hut iiaULihl hf cart'S for wrecks his fora\s strow 
( )\ ri iIk- sea. 



XLhc En? ot Summer. 

Slowl}' the sun has gone down to his rest, 

Filled full of the sadness of afternoon; 

There is no cheer on the face of the moon, 
And her light shines chill on the ocean's breast. 
The day of the rose has set in the west, 

And its light has failed, ah, far too .soon; 

I have drained the cup of the wine of Jvine, 
The vintage is spent and the last grape pressed. 
The desolate Winter is near, for lo. 

Dead Summer is now but a memory; 

The rivers will freeze and the north wind blow 

All the notes of his stormy minstrelsy; 
But the vSouth's warm breath will melt all the snow. 

And Sunmier, I know, will come back to me. 



i?oinict toi /n^.uclv 



<) S])riii^, will lliDU >till liidr froin im th\ lu-;iil ^^ 
Nor l)ri.Mk llu- WdikIs ot ih\ \<n\'^ nK-*.*}), ;iii<l raisi- 
Tliiiit- r\(.-> toilrixe iIr- i^lix >iii t'loiii llu >«.- last ilays? 

lM)r ilawii i> ItiTakiiii; aii'l tlir iiii^lil is llf(l. 

\\ lial (1i;miii-> arc tliinr of (la\s now loni^ siiui- dcail .■' 

Det-]) ill whose huriL-il loinhtliv iiK-morN" slravs; 

< )r sliall tin sk-cp be emlk'ss, and the wa\'s 

W'lieix- lliDU hast ti()'l<K-ii lu-ar iio more th\- treat I .' 
Ami \el I know thai ihoii wilt w.ike a^aiii. 
Nor keej) lOrexer hid those \iolet e\es; 
Their \eil ol slec-p will .Ma\ uidoosi- tor me, 

When he sliall come Ihroiij^h mist-^ ot" April's rain. 
And breathe the messa.^e of the South to thee, 
And touch th\ ^loriou-- head and hid ihee rise. 



IRoi Bmbrosia:. 

Last night in sleep my love came back to me 
Out of the gloom of days now long since dead, 
The shadowed days, whose utmost sun has fled 

Faint lit with stars of pallid memory. 

Across my face her hairs' rich tracery 

Streamed down as light through swaying branches shed 
Or amber veil of mist that winds have spread 

Across the fields' embroidered tapestry. 

Once more we seemed in that fair orchard close 

Where no time dwells save love in fullest noon, 
And where for mortal lovers ever flows 
The ambrosial stream from springs unknown of men. 
Yet, ah, that fate should lead us forth again 

And cheerless night close in for us so soon. 



Che ipiovnui ot 1li3incl, 



/lu(-c-S, III. 



Na\-, I.onl, lia\r w i- not k-t"l llii- S<nilluTii I,.ni<l 

Ami i'iosSvmI strange* seas diviilnl, wiiL-rrin Irll 

Tlu- >])()iki> ot Tin- ])c'opli* I>rarl, 
Ami toiU-d llirouL;!i lorU' \"ears of ])alli<l --aiKl, 
Cliii.i<iiij4' in spirit to 'iMiy ^trclclu'il-out lianil.-' 

We built for Thee a House wherein to <l\vell, 

And altar-- toi- huint saerilice, whose smell 
Thou lo\est, ha\e we raiNeil at Thy eoinni.md. 
\\li\ shouM \\ r liatlle with these Cauaauites .'' 

Are not their dauL;hters tair to look upon? 
And tluir >4<hU' d w r Ilin^-pl.nH--- on the hei>,dit> 

And in the L;ro\es are ])lea>ant: we would fain 
Not smite with sword> the men of Ashkelon. 

P<lse wilt Thou send tliem down on us like rain^ 



Sam!?ava. 



". . . 7)101 /uwe /lopes, 

T/iat after many chanocs may succeed 
Life, ivhick is Life indeed. ' ' 

vSee, we have reached the border of the wood; 

Here let lis rest ere yet the afternoon 
Turns homeward from the fields, for it is good 

While all the land avows the sway of June, 
To watch queen Venus in her splendor rise 
And Night's red-tinctured heraldry stain all the Western 

skies. 

There, where the hazel-bushes spread their bowers 

The vine already casts a deeper shade 
Than meadows wear at sunset, and its flowers 

Have closed their starlike eyes, as though afraid, 
Like children of the darkness; and the breeze 
Now barely stirs the listless leaves upon the poplar trees. 



Il st.'1'iiis l<) ila\ :i> it no riilurt.- S]niii_!L; 

CoiiM \\A\v >{\c\\ l)t.Mi'.t\', n>»r ,iii<>tluT \t.-ar 
V>r .i^hi'I wilh ilaisii-^., nur llu- lliruslus >in;^ 

As 11k'\' do now liaik ! liow (li\ini-l\' cU'ar 
Tliosi- licjuid notes Moal out from trt-t* to in-t.*, 
A^ tliou^li t-allic(|ral walls wc-rr i-clioiii'' llu- niL-ln(l\- 



llacli I'liaiim.' of sea>on hriiii^s a Nai^ur (K-li^lit, 
And s\scet i\\v liar\cst, thouL^h ihr fifkk* snn 

Shall seek the South, his ])araniour in lli^jlil, 

And Auluiun ihroui^h the woods and meadow^ run, 

Touching the leaves with sul)tle alidienu 

I'or speudiluift w ind> to jiilfei- fidui the forest's Ireasurv. 

Sweet is the <unlii!:hl throu^li tlie lauLTuid ha/e 
( )f earl\- SuniiuvT, when tlu- Mood l)eats ^tron^;. 

Aftei" ehan>4eles>< elieer of allien day> 
And wi-ary waitin,!:,^ for tlie liluet)ird's sonij, 

Tntil at last the desolate fieMs are .^^reeii, 

And down alon.!^ the --treani tlie t'lrst liej)atii'a i^ sren. 



And sweet at dawn to see the strange new l)irtli 

Of color from the mystery of night; 
To hear the stir of life and see the earth 

New-risen, as those men of old whose sight 
Strained ever westward over unknown seas, 
Until above the sea-line rose the New Hesperides. 

To sit at Nature's feet were better far 

Than conning faded scrolls, wherein to find 

Those misconceived and monstrous creeds that are 
The seeds that in the garden of the mind 

Have grown so rankly through the circling- years, 

And in our time still fill men's minds with dark, un- 
wholesome fears. 

I'^or men have held strange cults in days of old, 
And in that shadowed land that fronts the sea, 

Whose altars now are desolate and cold, 

Priests chose their tithes of children, bond and free, 

To pass through fire to Saturn, sparing none, 

And gave their maiden Moon in nn'stic marriage to the 

vSun. 



I soiiK'liiiK.'-- think llial in tlu- \ cmvs lou^ ]):i'«l 
AnolluT l)<)i|\ wa^ tlu- i^uesl-rooin of ni\ S<>nl, 

And thon^li nnicinhrauce now is overcast, 

\\t siill ilu- close-\\Ta])l darkness seems to roll 

At linu-> asnndrr, and willi nu'inorv. 

A llcrtini; LjlimnK-r of those oilier da \s t-oiiu's hack to nie. 

As one who in a idiurrh of loni^ ;il;o 

IIear> xnnf old lunr that >liT-s him like a dn-ani 
Of times i^rown ancient, and his reNers'.s How 

Is ([uickened hy the heavy fumes that stream 
h'roin censers tossed .aloft on j^iMed idiains, 
He feels the far-otf Northern hlood stir stron.i^ly in his 

\ eins, 

And knows hi> kinshi]) \\ilh lho>e U-arles-, men 
Who fou.'^ht all through ihal loni; ( )ctolK-r «la\ 

lietween the hill of Senlac and tlu- fen 

That skirt> the meadows westward; wlien the ba\- 

Mirrored a ])aler sunset on its lloo 1 

idian staini-(l the .i^^rass at e\enin^f with the hemes' 

]ioured-oui hloiwl. 



A brown-limbed l)oy I was and I^i1)yan l>orn, 
Adventurous, and with my comrades sailed 

From Pharos toward Sirenum and the bourne 
Of sunset, till the peaks stood out unveiled 

On Calpe, when we bade the pilot steer 

Toward Latmos, where, men say, the paths of night and 

day are near. 

And when the cliffs of Ilerkales we sank 

Low in the south, we still kept northward bound. 

And landing on the wild Britannian bank 

Our swords won fair-haired slaves, and there w^e found 

Much booty, so with laden ships we turned 

Us homeward toward old Nile and all its pleasures we 

had earned. 

Or while around the walls of lofty Troy 
Both gods and heroes met in bitter strife, 

When Venus gave an amorous shepherd boy 
The stolen Argive Helen for a wife, 

I too was there and by Achilles' side 

When in an evil hour his well beloved Patroclus died. 



( )iu-e w.i-- llial l()ii^->iiu-c- ruiiK-il S\ri,iii himl 

All t.-pi-'i nil- 1)1" im ii,ili\it\', 
And I a lad aiiioiii; llial w.irliki.- liaiid 

'I'hal coiiipas^cil Israel's i.'a])tivil\ , 
And laid a L;rir\()U> xokc upon her iK-ok 
And k-d lu-i" nu-n as wonii-n \we|iin^ iiilo l)aniarM-k. 

And so this ^traiit^c- hirlh M.-(|Ut.MU'(.' si-rnis l<> ii<> 
Hark b> the linu--- wlu-ii nivii \s d\- likrr heasls 

Than men and nowise ^^odlike, nor did know 
The gt)ud from e\il; nor were any ])riesls 

Then consecrate to sha])e min's hearts anew, 

I'nLil 1)\' i"i_L;hLeous li\in,!4 Man lo ])ert"ecl >tature s^Tew . 

Did iioi. the Ivast tran>]ate oriL;anic life 

Throui^h endless stejjs, where eaeli suceeedin,!^ sta^e 
llronght i^ood or ill, according' a^ the strife 

()f llesh with Kaiana in the ])il,i^rinia,!4e 
I'reeedin,^ it had sped the evil Soul 
Incarnate sliatnefully; the i^ood ])erchance to reach tiie 

Xoal 



Toward which our Souls through life terrestrial press 

Unconscious of their destiny, yet still 
Borne onward in their own despite, unless 

They make their bed with sin; onward until 
By inward contemplation they may see 
Reality, and are from further wandering set free. 

And thus the chain of life appeared distinct, 
Beginningless and without end, the earth 

Indeed our Mother Visible, instinct 

With one great principle, that each new birth 

By infinite gradation carries on 

The scheme of progress, till at last Nirvana has been 

won. 

Those ])lacid men of Attica received 

This heritage that sapped and overthrew 

The mythic legends they but half believed; 
And now to-day the West has shaped anew 

This world-old creed upon a surer base, 

And our new Science now appoints with Faith a trysting- 

place. 



()ur (.oii-^iii >u->iKs>, lias inaiK- u-« far I'X) ihdiu- 
'I'd call Mankiml tlu- final t\])i- ami .i;<'.il 

( )t l)eiii)L^; \\ r too >]iall change; iml ur aloiu- 
Arc- heirs of llu- iiilu-ritancf; tlu- Soul 

Has lowlit-r il\scllini;s; we are ol one kin 

Willi hinls and heasls, with ( )eean and the lish that 

dwell therein. 

Is this not then our 1 nmiorlalit \- ; 

That witli llu- di-atli of e\er\- life we ri>>e 
'Po something higher ^ ( )iir huinanit\' 

Is hut a lodi^inu, and the roadwa\- lies 
l-'ar on heyond, and throui^h the dust and Ileal 
We, too, must jM'ess some I-'.asler day with swift and 

silent feet. 



We shall not ])erish utterly, l)Ut li\e 

In all ihiuL^s xisihle. vSonie Autumn dav 
Will turn mure glorious west\sard when we .i4i\e 

()ur --])iril uj). Souk- llower that wails the Max- 
Will feel our ]ireseiice, and the (juickeiiin^ hreatli 
( )f S]n-inj^ will >lir our c)uiet dust h> shall we coiupier 

Dealli. 



Bttcr IReaMiui Catullus. 

I read Catullus till the page I scanned 

Grew indistinct, and, half asleep, I dreamed 
That you and I lived long ago; we seemed 

In Sabine meadows, walking hand in hand, 

A boy and girl with sun-browned faces fanned 
By languid breezes when the salt wind streamed 
From off the blue Tyrrhenian sea that gleamed 

Far distant. Surely, that was Love's own land — 

Ah, how you laughed to see the clums}' bees 
Shoulder their way among the chalices 

Of pvirple thyme, and when I kissed your hair, 
You ran off pouting, yet came back again. 

It seemed so real ; the sky, the soft warm air — 
And yet, could I have loved you better then ? 



i^'Oiinct tor ili.vjtcr. 

I)iil>t 'iMiou arisr, () CliriNl, a-^ iiu-ii lia\c sai<l, 

III \t.'i\ Irulli lliat primal Iva^lrr l)a\-? 

TliouLili 'iMioii wasl (>ii(,- willi (U-alli and laid away 
As mortal in Ihr kingdom of llu' di-ad. 
\'et was Tlu IxxU- in its r()ck-lR'\\ ii l)c-(l 

Immortal, noi- a])i)<)intrd to obex- 

As other Ik-sli, c"orrui)tion and tlu* swav 
(){ death. h'or thf\- wliose footsteps i^rief liad led 
Across the star-lit meadows to the tomh 

h'ound onl\- darkness where Tlnscdf hadst lain: 
So we, hv faitli, haw stri\en to jiierce tlu- _L,doi>m 

'i'hat \eils Tli}- presence from our inward ^ight. 
Turn, Lord, our feet upon the Way attain, 

'I'hat in Thy Li^ht we may at lentjth see Li^ht. 

Kasdr Even. 



Sonnet for Buiiuet. 

Month of the snn and wandering- harvest breeze 
And white mist drifting landward from the sea : 
Rare days with scent of Antnnin's mystery 

In drowsy hollows of the downs, where cronching trees 

O'ertop the tides of wavdng grass, on leas 
Now rose-forsaken, yet with pageantry, 
Withheld till now, of gold strewn royally. 

Here, in this maze of goldenrod and pease, 

I seem entangled in the tangled hair 

That crowned some Titan woman long ago. 

Are not these chicory bnds her eyes ? And where. 
Kissed of the amorons wind with all the South 

Enfraught, the poppies lift their heads arow. 
Rises the scarlet vision of her perfect month. 



X-l Xit.inv .It ipaitniu. 

Cn>\\iU u])()ii iln' \\ iiii l-s\\ c-pl j)irr, 
'rrciiililiii;^ Ii])s ami i-sclids w c-lliiij^', 

Sailors" ^luiut-- ami freaking ><;ear 

Miiit^ling with the whistle's swt-lliiivi. 

Now the eager shij) is free; 

I.outl she hears the calling sea; 
Keen to hear ami swift to follow 

P>ring my lady hack to iiie. 

Crowds aloiiL;' the steamer's rail, 

I'lxi.^ ha:i(l->ha(l()we<l shorewaid slraiiiiiij 

Wi^ttul as the answering; hail 

l''ainter comes from those rem lining. 

h'air ahead the faint-lit sea 

Lies in all lur m\ster\'; 

vSleep and laid\ he lh\- waking 

lirimr m\' lad\ hack to me. 



( )ul u])oii the rixer's hrea>t 

(dide> the ^t<,-amer seaward >winging 
As an athlete, forward i)re>t, 

Waits the starting signal's ringing, 
h'ar across the lonely sea 
Rest at length and victory; 

I'air ill ^iglil the hoiiriu- and lanrel 
r.rim' m\ lad\ hack to me. 



Lea,^ues on leagues of barren fields 

Spurned by man and fraught with peril. 

Naught such mocking lordship yields 
Save the scattered foam-flowers sterile. 

Hast thon thought for man, O Sea, 

That he may ask grace of thee? 
Thou art strong to save or ruin — 

Bring my lady back to me. 

vStar, that rides the Northern sky. 
High in heaven palely shining. 

With the Dipper's range stars nigh, 
Now a.scending, now declining; 

Ye that rule the inconstant sea, 

Constant be your trinity; 

vSwerve not in your weary circle — 

Bring my lady back to me. 

Venus lends her milder ray 

When the April moon is hiding ; 

I'aint upon the forward way 
Shines her radiance dimly guiding. 

We have put our trust in thee, 

Thou new-risen from the sea, 
Empress of the heart's desire — 

Bring my lady back to me. 



\\'iii<l liMiii out llic \\\>lcrii I.iii'l. 

Thou canst s\\a\ tli\ Norlliciu l)rotlur 
Sla\ ]iis ru(U- and l)oistcrous han<l, 

TIkt \\l- cliL-ri.-h and ucjul- other. 
Wf have sacrificed to Ihee, 
Called th\ name from t"er\ent knee, 

I<o, the ])oured-out wine ami lea\en-- 
I'.rin'' ni\ lad\ hack to me. 



Soft the silver ri])pleN run. 

Willi llu' -un^jlade all a-()ui\er, 
As the >hi]), her \ict()r\' won, 

Gains at last the shelterini^ ri\er. 
\\'ear\ miles of wearv sea 
Crossed and out of mind, \et she 

Still the Westward way shall follow 
]}rimr m\ lad\- hack to nie. 



Glair De Xunc* 

(Souvenir) 

All large siir les bords eiichaiites de I'lsere 

Le silence est profond. Pas meme un rossignol 
Parmi le frais feuillage au frou-frou doux et mol. 

La brise qui vient du sud tiede et legere, 

Mene tout le miirniure loiiitain de la nier. 

Cliaqvie pic des liauts moiits porte comme aureole 
Une clarte pale et inorne, ou derriere un col, 

La lune attend. vSoudain se levant toute claire, 

EUe trempe la unit de splendeur argentee. 
O Deese, toi qui vois les pays de I'ouest, 

Tu sais que bien au dela de ces bornes y reste 
Celle que j 'adore. Ah, si je pouvais la voir 

Son ceil etincelant sous ta lueur de fee, 

Et dans ma main ses doigts faits de rose et d'ivoire. 

* In this poem the rliymiiig follows the English and not the 
I'"rench stvle. 



LO CV 



or. hcv iMittnui her h.iiv \\\\ 



TIk- in\>lic sixlfC'U \«.-ars lia\c ])a^S(.'<l a\\a\. 
Willi iiiir(.'k-uliii_i; chance of j()\ and pain. 
WinU-i" has lriuiii])hc(l oft, ami now aiiain 
His ])()\\cr ha^ \anisluMl al iIk- ~^nliU• of Maw 
Now i>n itu- l)onkTlanil \oiir looi-.i(.-|)> -^ira\-, 
Willi lu-art irrooluU-, foi- \ on wouM fain 
'iMiox.- lih -frai^ranl xcars nii-^^lu Mooin av;ain 
l!ir line could ■-ax ; ''Lo. llicsc died vt-sti-rdaw " 
TIk' >un-I)ri^hl liraid> of hair I lo\fd to see, 

^\'here i^old waiied fruilk-.s-> war wilh lirni-^el hiown 
Are n(nv for \<inr dear head a ro\al crown. 
The hadj^e and eniMeni of Nour soverei.u'^nLx . 
\\-l lluil sweet diadtiii I nia\ not dare 
I'mda^]); i^ not ni\ heart inwoxen thi-rv-? 



B Xan^6cape b\? Cuvp. 

The sea lies still, reluctant dawn is breaking 

O'er wind-washed moor and high, defiant hill. 
I'ar past the utmost bay, asleep or waking, 
The sea lies still. 

All pale from strnggle with the reckless will 

Of Ocean, now his fitful slumber taking. 
The barren vsands are treacherous and chill. 

Of men and ships, alike of death partaking, 

The bare, bright, cruel reefs have drunk their fill. 
Now penitent and sick with ruin of his making, 
The sea lies still. 



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